Tit for Tat
by sfchemist
Summary: Post-ep for 403 Love in the Time of Colorado: Mary takes Marshall's advice to get out and holds him responsible for the consequences. Relatively fluffy and spoiler free.
1. Tit

**Summary:** Post-ep for 403 Love in the Time of Colorado: Mary takes Marshall's advice to get out and holds him responsible for the consequences

This was written ages ago and I've only just got round to finishing it. While doing so, I rewrote a couple of sections so it fits as a post-ep for Love in the Time of Colorado. Relatively spoiler free as it's a "what if" about what could have happened if Mary had taken Marshall's advice to get out that evening. No spoilers other than that.

**Disclaimer:** Sam Seaborne: "Good writers borrow from other writers. Great writers steal from them outright."

In my desire to be a good writer, I've stolen the characters and locations from In Plain Sight, the above quote from The West Wing and plot ideas from Friends, Numb3rs and Veronica Mars. If you recognise it, it's not mine.

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><p><strong>Tit-For-Tat<strong>

Marshall strode down the hotel corridor, checking each room number as he past.

"I still don't see why you couldn't just let me up," he grumbled into the phone that had been attached to his ear for the last 20 minutes.

"Shut up and hurry up," Mary grumbled back.

"You know I've probably broken several regs by implying to the front desk that..."

"Marshall," Mary growled warningly.

Marshall stopped outside room 216 and removed the card key he had lied to acquire. He pushed the door open and his weapon was instantly in his hand as his brain took in the details of the room.

He edged into the room, weapon held ready, as he made sure Mary was the only person present. He ignored her reassurances, which quickly became muttered insults, then direct threats, as he checked the bathroom for the perpetrator of the scene before him.

Once he was satisfied that whoever had done this was long gone, he returned to Mary.

"You wanna shut the door, Numbnuts?" she asked pointedly, "I'll need to start charging for the show soon."

Marshall did as he was told, closing the door he had left open in his haste to secure the room.

He looked back at Mary.

"Are you just gonna stand there and grin? Or are you gonna help, Jackass?"

Marshall hadn't even realised he was grinning until Mary pointed it out. He carefully schooled his features back into their normal, patient expression and holstered his gun.

"You want to explain how you ended up...?" he started to ask but couldn't think of the words to describe the sight before him.

Mary helped him out. "How I ended up naked and handcuffed to the bed? Jesus, Marshall, I had thought it would be obvious. Or are you such a boy scout that you've never tried anything more complicated than missionary?"

"Really, Mare? You really think _this_ is a good time to insult me?"

"You were the one that told me to get out," she pointed out sulkily. Marshall's patient gaze told her this wasn't what he'd had in mind.

Mary looked away as her vulnerability struck her. She had been wearing her anger and indignation like a cloak to cover her nakedness. But Marshall had a way of stripping her bare and he'd chosen a particularly inconvenient moment to do so.

Marshall raked his eyes over Mary's form one more time while she wasn't looking. He tried not to stare and told himself that he was only checking for injuries as he couldn't imagine Mary letting herself get into such a situation without a fight.

There were no injuries he could see and the glance meant that the image of Mary laying on the bed, hands above her head and handcuffed to the metalwork of the headboard was firmly etched into his brain.

"Marshall?"

If any other woman has uttered his name that way, he would have classified the tone as begging. But this was Mary and Mary didn't beg.

Her gentle reminder was sufficient to get Marshall moving towards the side of the bed.

"Where's the key?"

Mary shrugged. Well, as much as she could with her arms above her head. Marshall snagged one of the sheets off the floor and threw it over her in a heap. She wiggled underneath to make sure all her parts were covered.

The display of physical dexterity made Marshall pause in his search for the key.

"How did you call me?"

Mary glared at him and he resumed his search.

"Seriously, how did you reach your phone?"

"It was on the nightstand."

"Yeah...but how...?" Marshall mimed having limited movement in his wrists.

Mary sighed, "I got it with my foot. Okay?"

Marshall stared her in awe. Then, as the images of the contortions she would have had to perform paraded through his mind, he shut his eyes and faked a shudder.

"Hey, Pervoid! Are you planning on getting me out of these any time soon?"

"It's not here, Mare, " Marshall told her. "I've got another idea."

He started to remove his belt as Mary eyed him wearily.

"Whoa, what you up to there, Cowboy?"

Marshall rolled his eyes at her and displayed the belt buckle.

"I'm going to pick it. You got a better suggestion? Of course, I could always call the hotel manager and see if there's a pair of bolt cutters on the premises. That would probably involve questions as to why I want them and maybe a member of the maintenance staff or two..."

Mary got bored about three words into Marshall's speech and by the end was waving her hand in the universal 'Are you done?' gesture. Marshall grinned and sat on the edge of the bed to apply the pin of the buckle to the lock.

Mary watched as Marshall frowned in concentration. She hadn't had the opportunity to study him this closely for a while. He was barely managing to suppress his amusement, but the smile in his eyes only served to emphasize the crow's feet. Her eyes travelled to his hair and the grey he didn't bother to cover. She wondered when he had started looking old and if he saw her the same way.

She sighed as the absurdity of the situation dawned on her. Here she was, a woman of 40, old enough to know better but still gullible enough, desperate enough, that she'd jump into bed with the first man that looked at her with passion. Too often she'd mistaken that longing look for a loving one. Now she was paying the price for her need for a few moments of connection with another human, no matter how superficial, as her partner struggled to release her from captivity.

"Got it!" Marshall declared as the pressure on her wrists was suddenly released.

Mary gingerly lowered her arms, her shoulders protesting the movement after so long in the unnatural position.

"Do you want me to...?" Marshall began to offer, only to be cut off by Mary's glare.

"To what?" she spat, still angry with herself.

"To..." he gestured to her shoulders, "you know, loosen the muscles?"

"You wish!" she snapped, tone more playful than before as his practical offer reminded her who she was talking to.

She tucked the sheet around herself as she sat up and rubbed her wrists. Marshall knew better than to help as she swung her legs off the bed, still clutching the sheet, and started to collect her clothes from off the floor.

As she snagged her pants off the dresser she noticed something was missing.

She started to search frantically, letting go of one edge of the sheet as she did so.

"Mare?" Marshall tried to point out the steadily slipping cover, but was cut off by Mary's curse.

"Goddamnit! That bastard stole my badge and gun!"


	2. For

**AN:** Sorry, should have mentioned at the top of the last chapter, this story is three chapters in total.

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><p>"So what was his name?" Marshall asked, trailing after the now clothed Mary as she stormed down the hotel hallway.<p>

"How the hell should I know!" She felt Marshall's patient stare on her back and added, "It was Dave. Or Dan. Or Dominic. It definitely began with a D."

"Well that narrows the search down," Marshall muttered sarcastically. "I take it then, that this was the first date and you probably didn't have time to cover the more intimate personal details."

"Don't judge me! Not everyone lives by your ridiculous moral code."

"Who's judging? I was just wondering if you knew anything useful about him. Like an address or last name? But obviously not."

"No," Mary answered sulkily as she punched the button for the elevator.

"So, how are we going to track him down?"

"How the hell should I know?" Mary snapped as she stepped into the elevator.

Marshall suppressed a sigh as he followed her once again.

"What?" she asked after a minute's silence.

"Nothing. I was just planning how we find this guy."

"No you weren't. You were picturing me naked."

Marshall didn't disagree.

"God, I'm gonna make him pay when I find him," she muttered as they stepped off the elevator.

"Come on, Mare, he didn't actually hurt you," Marshall attempted to placate her.

"No, but he's pissed me off and is making me waste my time tracking him down. Not to mention, I now know that I've become number one on your list of women to perv over."

"You have a pretty high opinion of yourself there, Mare, if you think seeing you naked is all it takes to make you the alpha female in my fantasies," he said, glossing over the fact she had acquired that dubious honor some time ago.

"Oh, please, like you've never..." she tailed off as she realized Marshall was no longer his customary half pace behind her.

She turned and saw him waiting for her. He indicated the concierge desk and headed towards it. He returned the key card and smiled reassuringly at the guy behind the desk.

"...another favor to ask," he was saying when Mary appeared at his side.

"My friend here picked up the wrong phone. Did you happen to notice the guy she was with?" he asked the receptionist.

"The short blond guy that looked like a cop?"

Marshall gave Mary a quick glance. "Yeah, that's the one," he agreed. "Have you got any details on him?"

The clerk shook his head. "Sorry. He checked in under a false name."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, unless he really was Richard Gere and your friend here is Demi Moore."

Both men looked at Mary as she tried to disappear into the floor.

"Did you take his car?" Marshall asked, still looking at her.

Mary nodded and continued trying to be invisible. Marshall turned back to the guy, resolving to tease Mary about her choice of pseudonym later.

He asked, "Do you have security cameras out there?" jerking his head towards the parking lot.

"Yeah. But I can't give you access. You'll need to talk to the manager to get permission to get copies or whatever."

Marshall waited patiently.

"I'll call him," the clerk said reaching for the phone.

xxx

"Just what did you tell him to make him so cooperative?" Mary asked as they exited the hotel, copies of the relevant security tape in hand.

"I told him my sister's hen party had gone wrong and I had to get you to the church."

"And that worked?"

"Well, I said it with a great deal of charm."

Mary shot Marshall a death glare over the top of the car before opening the door with enough force to practically pull it off its hinges and sliding in.

"So. Demi Moore?" Marshall asked as he put his seatbelt on.

"From An Officer and a Gentleman."

"Really? How long have you been harboring a secret desire to be swept off your feet by Richard Gere?"

"I'm not. He said he was a sailor, that's why...Oh."

"And you didn't think to mention this before?" There was no bite to Marshall's tone, only patient amusement.

Marshall waited until he had safely merged with the traffic on the main road before sparing a glance for the now too quiet Mary.

"Penny for them?" he offered.

Mary didn't stop staring out the passenger window. When Mary didn't answer, Marshall tried a different approach.

"You know, the penny is the only denomination that doesn't interact with any man-made object. Not even toll booths."

Marshall paused, sneaking a glance at his partner as she tried to ignore him. When she still didn't say anything, he continued, "Except in Illinois..."

"Fine! I give!" Mary snapped, equal parts annoyed and amused.

She lapsed into silence again, the one that Marshall recognized as preceding the revelation of what she was truly thinking and feeling.

He waited.

"I was just thinking; my gun's out there somewhere."

She contemplated the Albuquerque scenery for another minute.

"Why would someone take a marshal's gun and badge? They've got to know they'll be in a shit load of trouble when they get caught."

"Perhaps they don't expect to get caught," Marshall suggested. "Perhaps whatever he's planning to do with it won't take that long and he knows we won't be able to track him before he does it."

"Jesus," Mary muttered, "If someone gets hurts because of..."

Marshall knew where her thoughts were heading. "Don't, Mare, you're not responsible for every bad thing that happens in the world."

"But it's my gun, Marshall, I'm responsible for it and I let it get into the hands of God-knows-who!"

Marshall knew he wouldn't be able to talk her out of that particular line of guilt and blame. If it was his gun, he would feel the same. But then again, he'd never be stupid enough to expose himself to that kind of danger by sleeping with a stranger.

"Do you thing he slept with me just to get my gun?" she asked quietly after a moment.

Marshall didn't answer directly, offering instead another possibility. "Maybe we're going about this the wrong way. Maybe there is no grand plan and he just grabbed your badge and gun as a souvenir of the hot Marshal he screwed."

Mary looked up sharply at Marshall's uncharacteristic language.

"Maybe," she agreed, unconvinced.


	3. Tat

**AN:** Many thanks to Enfleurage and others for pointing out that it was in fact Debra Winger in An Officer and a Gentleman. I'd like to pretend that it was a deliberate mistake, but it really wasn't and hopefully I've managed to rectify it without spoiling anyone's enjoyment too much.

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><p>"Got it!" Marshall sang out as he put the phone down.<p>

Mary looked up and was overwhelmingly relieved to see the stupid grin on Marshall's face.

"Whoever this guy is, I think we can rule out criminal mastermind," he said as he tore the top sheet off his notepad. "The car's a rental, but he booked it under his own name, Michael Bostock, and a quick search of Navy personnel records confirms there's a Michael Bostock, Lieutenant Junior Grade, who is currently on shore leave in Albuquerque."

"So he _was_ an officer," Mary muttered.

Marshall glared at her. "Way to focus there, Demi." Mary has the decency to look abashed. It didn't last long, being replaced by a glare as Marshall continued, "And just so you know for next time, it was Debra Winger in An Officer and a Gentleman, not Demi Moore."

"Who?"

"Debra Winger. She was in..."

"Whatever," Mary dismissed, not keen on hearing either actress' full resumes at that moment. "How do we know we've got the right guy?" she asked, returning to the topic at hand.

"I've just printed out his picture," Marshall said and before he had finished speaking, Mary had grabbed the printout off the printer. "That him?"

"Yeah," Mary breathed in relief. She put the image down and leant on the side as she asked, "But why would an officer steal my badge and gun?"

"Only one way to find out," Marshall said, grabbing his keys.

xxx

Mary slammed the door behind her and stomped across Marshall's living room. Marshall trailed patiently after her, as always.

"I can't believe that jumped-up, tight-assed, little peabrain of a motel clerk wouldn't give us the room number!"

She spun to face Marshall, "Didn't she recognize your badge? Or does she just get perverse pleasure out of getting one up on me?"

"Perhaps you shouldn't have threatened to have her arrested for looking like a prostitute last time we stashed a witness there," Marshall pointed out mildly.

"Whose side are you on?"

"I'm just saying, she might have been less hostile if you had treated her with respect."

"And just where did your respect get _you_?"

Marshall just looked at her. She had a point. All his attempts at sweet talking the clerk had fallen flat. Their search for Michael Bostock had hit a temporary roadbloack in the form of a woman still smarting from her previous encounter with Mary. Their only hope was to try again the following day and hope there was a different clerk that would give them Michael Bostock's room number before Mary started breaking doors down at random. The marshals could only pray that Bostock wasn't planning to do something stupid with Mary's gun between then and now.

Knowing there was nothing more he could do until morning, Marshall shrugged as he shot Mary an impish grin.

"Nowhere," he admitted, "but I'm going to have a cold shower while I contemplate her final suggestion to you."

"Pervert," Mary shot back as Marshall strolled past on his way to the bathroom.

"After all," he called back over his shoulder, "now I've seen the goods, it shouldn't be too hard to imagine."

Mary fumed silently as she recalled the compromising situation that had started this chain of events. She had been denied her opportunity to vent her anger at the man that had perpetrated the crime, but the man who's suggestion had led to her picking up a guy in a bar and the only other witness to her indelicacy was within reach. She knew Marshall would hold this over her for years to come. He'd never let a hint of impropriety slip when they were in public, but he'd make little comments when they were alone. Already she could picture the look that would be on his face when he was remembering the scene in the hotel. Even if no one else did, _she_ would know exactly what he was thinking whenever anyone mentioned handcuffs or restraint and he shot a covert glance in her direction.

It wasn't fair! she decided.

Their relationship was built on balance and mutual interdependence and they had been teetering recently. Now one more thing had happened to upset the delicate balance in their relationship, handing Marshall the upper hand. All because of his stupid suggestion and her hope that maybe this time...

Her fury slowly turned her mind to thoughts of revenge as she heard the shower begin to run. She needed to redress the balance, to bring her and Marshall back onto equal footing. A feral and conniving smile lit her face as she crept towards the bathroom door and waited until she was sure that Marshall was in the shower. She slid her belt off and inserted the buckle edge into the small mechanism that indicated the room was in use. She turned it 90 degrees and with unanticipated ease, the lock made a quiet click.

Mary coaxed the door open and edged inside. She froze as she heard Marshall groan on the other side of the shower curtain. It occurred to her that he would do more than groan if and when he caught her and, as Marshall heaved a contented sigh, Mary had to stifle a giggle.

As quietly as she could, she removed the towels that were in easy reach of the shower cubicle and leant back against the washbasin to wait.

Through the curtain she could just make out her partner and she allowed her eyes to travel the full length of his obscured body. She felt her breath hitch and skin flush. She averted her eyes then cursed herself for doing so. The man had seen her in flagrante. Starkers. Nude. Completely bare-assed and in a none-too-ladylike position. _He_ hadn't looked away or blushed, but she couldn't even bring herself to gaze at the outline of her naked partner. She blushed more as she recalled the way his eyes had travelled over her body, devouring the sight of her. Maybe...

Her musing was cut short as the sound of running water ceased. The shower curtain snapped open. Behind it stood Marshall, dripping wet and pushing his hair out of his eyes as he stepped out of the shower. He didn't notice Mary as he turned to reach for a towel. As his hand came back from the towel rack empty, he spun to search the room and finally registered Mary's presence.

"Mary? Wh- What...?" he spluttered. "What are you doing in here?"

At that moment, Mary was struggling to recall her own name, let alone her reason for breaking into Marshall's bathroom, as she took in the sight of her partner. She had seen him without a shirt on several occasions but never had the sight of his bare torso affected her so. Maybe it was the rivulets of water running down his chest. Maybe it was the way locks of his wet hair kept falling forward into his eyes, refusing to stay when he pushed them back. Maybe it was his muscular and powerful thighs. Maybe it was all of this or something in between.

"Mare?" Marshall said gently as he moved his hands to cover his more intimate areas.

Marshall's hands broke into Mary's line of sight, ending her hypnosis and she was finally able to pull her gaze away from what had truly captured her attention. She looked up into his eyes and felt the blood rushing to her face as his amused and quizzical look registered.

"Ummm...I was just...You know..." Mary was still flustered and Marshall's lack of embarrassment was only serving to make her more so. Anger once again came to her rescue and she snapped, "Goddamn it, Marshall! Fair's fair. You've seen mine so...Tit for," she gestured to where his hands still rested lightly, "tat."

'It's just as well he has large hands,' she thought, startling Marshall with the girlish giggle that came so soon on the heals of her tirade.

Marshall took two slow steps towards her, closing the distance between them to inches, then to less than that as he leaned towards her. Mary held her breath as Marshall's body hovered so close to hers that she was sure she could feel the moisture from his skin seep into her clothes.

"Are we even yet?" he whispered into her ear.

Mary's breath was rapid and uneven as Marshall moved away. She glanced down and her mind grabbed onto what seem to be an irrelevant detail. Her top wasn't wet. He had felt so close; yet he had never touched her. It took her a moment to realise that he had used her distraction to grab one of the towels she had been hiding behind her body. What sort of man could provoke such a response in her without ever touching her? she wondered.

As her thoughts were in turmoil, Marshall was calming drying his hair with his back to her, giving her an unsurpassed view of his ass. His methodical movements and relaxed posture as he toweled himself dry allowed her to regain her composure and admire the view. When he was done, he turned back to her, now with the towel wrapped around his waist.

"So...pizza or Chinese?" he asked, as if nothing had happened.

Mary considered for a moment.

"Chinese," she answered.

She remained leaning against the washbasin as Marshall strolled out the room to get dressed and order the food. He was already in his bedroom when Mary remembered how to make her legs work so he didn't hear her muttered comment as she left the room.

"And, no, we're not even. Not when you can make me feel like that without even trying."

xxx

"Michael Bostock! US Marshals! Open up!" Marshall yelled through the motel door.

He and Mary heard a muffled, "Shit," from inside the room and an instant later the door opened.

Marshall pushed his way into the room and surveyed the scene. "Clear," he yelled to Mary, holstering his weapon and turning to regard the half-dressed man before him. Mary entered the room and Marshall saw Michael's eyes widen in recognition and fear.

"Hey, Asswipe," Mary began, "Where's my badge and gun?"

Michael didn't answer quickly enough for Mary's liking and found himself being pressed face first against the wall with his arm pushed up his back.

"Over there, in the drawer," he yelped, trying to indicate with his eyes which drawer he meant.

"Got them," Marshall called.

Mary instantly abandoned her abuse of Michael and rushed over to retrieve her possessions.

"There you are," she muttered to her gun, "It's okay, Mommy's here now, you're safe."

Marshall rolled his eyes at her affectionate tone and stepped over to where Michael was eyeing the door.

"Why'd you take them?" Marshall asked as he cut off the escape route.

Michael looked at Mary, now checking her gun for damage.

"No offence, Sir, but your partner doesn't seem the type to take no for an answer and I couldn't think of any way of ..."

"Of what?" Mary demanded as her attention snapped back to the other occupants of the room.

Michael turned towards Mary and took a deep breath before he answered. "The other night was fun and all," he drawled, "but I didn't want another go. I thought it might be safer for me if you weren't armed when I told you that. I was going to hand it in to the local PD when my shore leave was over," he reassured hastily.

"And what makes you think _I _would have wanted another go?" Mary snapped scornfully. "You weren't _that_ good."

At the time she had thought he had been and she would have jumped at another chance sample his particular brand of pleasure. But that had been before last night and the discovery of a man who could leave her breathless without even touching her. Now she was too curious to see what Marshall could do if and when he touched her to give Michael a second thought let alone a second go.

"We done here?" Marshall asked her, breaking her train of thought and bringing her back to the present.

"Almost," she breathed. She turned to impart one last shot to Michael. "You had better thank your lucky stars that I don't like paperwork, or there'd be a official report heading to your superior officer now. If I catch you pulling a stunt like that again or if I even suspect there's a hint of anything hinky about you, I'll overcome my dislike of forms and you'll be just another washed out sailor before you can say dishonorable discharge. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Good." She turned to Marshall. "_Now_ we're done."

"Good, I'm starving. Let's get some breakfast."

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><p><strong>AN2:<strong> I've decided this needs an epilogue, so there'll be one more chapter as soon as I've written it.


	4. Epilogue

**AN:** Not sure it's worth the wait, but here's the promised epilogue. Spoilers for Second Crime Around.

xxx

"Here, let me help," Mary said to Conrad as she began to undo the ties at her waist. She slowly opened the black dress and took a moment to enjoy the look of disbelief on Marshall's face and the looks of admiration on the other idiot men in the room.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the predicament Marshall was in, wanting to take his time and enjoy the view she was offering, but not daring to take his eyes off the potential sources of danger that Conrad and his goons presented. He compromised, taking in Mary's form as part of long sweeping glances around the room. Despite the fact he had seen her naked, and her attempt to redress the balance had backfired, Mary knew she had finally regained the power in their relationship.

She would never admit it, but Marshall had taught her a lot during their partnership. From him she had learnt about the power that fancy lingerie could possess. He had taught her about the invitation to a fantasy. It was an invitation she had decided to employ to good effect today. She had chosen this particular bra and panties set just in case an opportunity like this arose. She had dressed this morning planning to get her own back on Marshall for leaving her breathless without even touching her. Two could play at that game, and as Marshall began to look at anything in the room except her, she smirked as she realised she had won this round. She closed her dress and as she looked down to do up the ties, she smiled in anticipation of what Marshall's next move would be.

xxx

"I averted my eyes," Marshall said.

Mary took a moment to catch up with his train of thought. "'Scuse me?" she asked when she couldn't place the comment in context.

"When you did that, you know, with your dress, I averted my eyes."

Mary suddenly realised where he was heading. He was calling a truce.

"It might not have seemed like it," he continued, unaware of the confusion he was causing Mary, "but I didn't see … anythi ..."

Mary cut him off mid-word. "Oh! Oh. Oh my God," she blustered to cover her confusion.

By not acknowledging what they both knew to be true - that he had seen and enjoyed her display the previous day - he was refusing to play the game any more. He wasn't willing to take it to the next level as he knew she was expecting him to. This truce in place of escalation was new.

She shoved her disappointment aside and hit back with a stream of derision that was sure to stop him in his tracks and prevent him from ever mentioning the topic again. Maybe if he never mentioned it and she never thought about it, she would forget the sensation of loss she felt in that moment when she realised that everything had changed and she'd missed her chance.


End file.
